


A Rose By Any Other Name

by betweenheroesandvillains



Series: Thorns and Roses [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Consort Kylo, Emperor Hux, Kylo Ren wears his grandma's clothes, M/M, PDWP, Pretty Dresses What Plot, That's it, he looks incredible, pretty dresses and politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:24:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenheroesandvillains/pseuds/betweenheroesandvillains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Emperor's consort has a weakness for flamboyant gowns. Not that Hux would complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rose By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [versus_versus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/versus_versus/gifts).



> I take 30% of the blame. The other 70% go to versus_a_blank_page, who shamelessly fuelled this fic. (Okay, maybe 10% of the blame go to various fashion designers and the person who brought Kylo Amidala up.)

Kylo looks strangely peaceful when he sleeps.

Hux watches his consort, the rise and fall of his chest and the long shadows of his dark lashes against his cream-white skin. The wild mop of his black hair against the white sheets. The little moles and imperfections that are usually covered with make-up. He looks young and vulnerable, nothing like the person he is outside their shared chambers. Hux props himself up on an elbow and traces the constellations on his lover's body with his eyes. It's a luxury, this silent moment shortly after dawn. The sun spilling through the windows, warm and gentle. The silence. There is no noise except for Kylo's steady breaths. Hux can't help it, he has to reach out, carefully threading his fingers through a strand of Kylo's hair. His consort shows no reaction whatsoever, so he allows his hands to wander. He connects freckles and moles on Kylo's chest, the shapes well-known to his hands. If he was ever asked to, he could probably map out all the blemishes on Kylo Ren's body without hesitation. Some days, it still scares him how well he knows Kylo, and how exposed that leaves him. If anything were to happen to Kylo... He pushes that thought aside. Kylo Ren can take care of himself.

Hux feels muscles shift under his touch and watches Kylo's face as he wakes up.

It starts with a twitch of his lips, a deep breath, followed by a balling of his hands, for just a short moment, before his eyelids flutter and he leans into Hux's touch. Then he opens his eyes and looks up at Hux. A small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth, and his eyes roam Hux's face like he is trying to imprint the moment in his memory. He turns towards Hux and presses a long, lean leg against Hux's thigh. "Mhm. Morning."

Hux smiles back. "Good morning." Then he presses a short kiss to Kylo's lips. They look just a little too soft not to do it. Kylo is soft and pliant under his hands, all warm and drowsy. He is like a sleepy cat, pressing against Hux. Pressing and pushing until Hux is on his back and Kylo can roll on top of him. Hux huffs when his consort's weight settles on his chest. Instead of scalding Kylo, as he'd usually do, he pushes a hand in Kylo's hair and pulls him down, deepening the kiss. For a short moment, Kylo stills, his irritation seeping into Hux's mind. He smiles as he pushes Kylo's face away, gently, a hand still in his hair. "The negotiations won't start for another two hours." It's a rare enough occasion for them to see each other in the morning, but having some time to spend together is even rarer. So when Kylo rolls off him with a soft curse and jumps to his feet, Hux is utterly surprised.

"Kylo? What..."

His consort is frantically rifling through his clothes. The rustling of soft fabric is music in Hux's ears, who knows exactly what is to be expected from Kylo Ren's formal attire. Ever since he can afford to wear whatever he wants, Kylo dresses in the most extravagant textiles imaginable. The Emperor, of course, is only too willing to indulge his consort. Especially since the flamboyant dresses, the jewels, the metals and other materials that Kylo wears have a deeper meaning than just the looks.

His lover's pale legs vanish when Kylo dons a pair of wide trousers, the dark violet textile being almost transparent. He stands there for a long moment, hands on his hips, back ramrod straight, and examines the pile of cloth he laid out the evening before. Hux's eyes are drawn to the black and purple bruises on Kylo's shoulders. He knows there are even more of them clearly visible on his collarbones and throat. With the right collar they could easily be hidden, as Hux prefers to do it, but Kylo tends to wear the marks with pride, showing them off in tunics with ridiculously low necklines or flashing them through thin white fabric. It would have bothered General Hux. But as the Emperor, he feels a rush of excitement. Kylo Ren, arguably the deadliest person in the galaxy, shamelessly reminding the world that he is taken. That he belongs to his Emperor. It makes Hux shiver.

Kylo stays motionless for a while, obviously deep in thought. Without his constant heat, the bed soon grows cold, so Hux gets up and walks over, wrapping an arm around Kylo's torso. The touch seems to snap his consort out of his thoughts. "Two hours," he mutters, his eyes narrowing as he turns his head to look at Hux. The Emperor nods, feeling as if he is supposed to give an answer. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?" Ren slips out of Hux's hold and lets his hands glide over several gowns. He sighs. "There is no way I'll be done in time for the negotiations. Damn. DAMN!" He picks one of the gowns up (black lace, see-through, low-backed). Throws it on a chair and picks up the next one (dark blue, shimmering, cut out to his bellybutton as far as Hux can tell), holding it against his trousers. A second later, it lands on the chair, too, and Hux understands that this has to be the pile of discarded clothes. He folds his arms in front of his chest, an amused smile on his lips.

"I told you yesterday. In the early afternoon. After you invaded the negotiations and had everyone embarrassed to their bones. Remember?"

 

Kylo had entered the room, holding his head as high as always, wearing golden heels, a golden diadem and a skirt made of thin golden cloth that was mostly see-through and only held together by one strategically placed golden needle. His torso had been decorated with golden tattoos wich would, as Hux knew just too well, flake off at the slightest touch, and even his make-up had been mostly golden. Hux, as well as the more daring (or more shocked) delegates had found his eyes wandering to more intimate areas, only to find that they were covered by honey-coloured gems. Barely covered, that was. One wrong movement could easily expose them. But Kylo was the master of graceful movements, and as he swept past the delegates towards Hux it was absolutely clear who held the power in the room.

 

"Yeah, I wasn't in the mood to pick last night." Kylo raises an eyebrow, daring Hux to say anything. But last night left him well satisfied, so Kylo is right. Who is he to complain? "You might want to wear something silvery," he remarks smugly. "It's the colour of Hrevon." Kylo snorts. "I'm not overly invested in politics, but even I know that. You told me often enough." Three times, to be exact. He went through the symbols with Kylo. What he could wear to make his Emperor's choice clear. Now it is time to put things into action. "I'll leave you to it," Hux says, pressing a last quick kiss to Kylo's mouth before going to enjoy a long, hot shower. Afterwards, he combs his hair into place, brushes his teeth and puts on a freshly ironed uniform. As a last touch, he covers the dark circles around his eyes up. He can't help it, his pale complexion has the vessels shine through his skin, making him look tired, whether he slept two hours or twenty.

About thirty minutes have passed since he left Kylo, but nothing has changed. The former knight is still brooding over a pile of gowns. The only difference is that the chair is now covered in clothes which Kylo deemed unfit for this day. Before Hux can think of a mocking comment, Kylo picks an intricate dress, and Hux's heart skips a few beats. The dress is very much see-through, silver embroidery on transparent cloth. It's floor-length, with a thigh-high slit on the right side. It would be downright filthy to wear without the trousers, and though it would be quite a view, that is not what they are going for in the situation at hand. So when Kylo slips it on, Hux is more than thankful that he is wearing the violet trousers underneath, for propriety's sake. Kylo looks down at himself. The top of the dress is figure-hugging, showing off his broad shoulders as well as his muscular arms and torso. Not even the fancy gowns can gloss over the fact that he is a threat to everyone, save for Hux. Kylo's loyalty, once established, is unwavering.

 

After Snoke's fall, Kylo's temper had calmed down to something that could be controlled and used to their advantage. Hux presumed that Snoke had messed with Kylo's head but never bothered to ask for confirmation. It doesn't matter any longer. With Snoke dead, their lives had improved drastically, and here they are. Emperor and consort of the greatest empire since Palpatine's days. Once they had merged their powers, it had almost been too easy.

 

"One and a half hours." Hux states it matter-of-factly but smiles when he hears a muffled curse. Kylo turns on his heels, staring down at him intensely. "Not enough time," he proclaimes again before storming past Hux while he takes off the gown again. A moment later, the water starts running.

Kylo showers for almost twenty minutes. Another ten minutes afterwards, and he opens the door again, being fully dressed in the trousers, the gown and a broad silver metal belt that accentuates his hips. His hair, though, is still a mess and his face still unpainted. He has a quick look on the chrono and curses again before rushing over to the dressing table and starting to brush his hair in frantic movements. It looks violent, and Hux can't stop himself from walking over and wrapping his fingers around the brush. "Let me do that. You'll only hurt yourself."

Hux settles comfortably against Kylo's back. Brushing out the long black curls is strangely calming. The soft noises Kylo makes only help with that. They remind Hux of the purring of a content cat. When he is done, he looks at the jewellery Kylo laid out last night. He chooses a platinum wreath with long chains. After placing it on Kylo's brow, he braids the chains into his consort's hair. The movements are easy enough. He remembers them from when he was a child and braided his sister's hair, and later on, Phasma's before she cut it all off. It's really not that hard if you know what you're doing. But it takes a while, so he says, "Maybe you want to put on the foundation while I'm working here."

They work together like a well-oiled machine, in a way that comes from months and years of experience. Hux braids, and watches Kylo in the mirror as his pale face turns white from the foundation. It's a perfect, immaculate white that makes Kylo look otherworldly. Unreal. To those unfamiliar with his features, it has to seem as though Kylo Ren is a higher being that has risen above such human things as emotions or reactions. Kylo hums under his hands and flashes him a smile in the mirror. "You really believe that?" It takes Hux a moment to regain his posture. Even after all this time, it's unsettling to know that his consort can read minds, and he'd rather not think about all the things Kylo probably overheard. "Yeah." And then, because he is starting to become a brainless mess when he is alone with Kylo, "You are beautiful." Then he buries his nose in Kylo's hair, just for a short moment because he can, before resuming his work. Kylo is already halfway through minutely applying silver lipstick on his upper lip when Hux is finally done.

 

"You're really effacing yourself today, aren't you?" Kylo raises an eyebrow as he puts in heels that will make him tower over everyone. The winged silver eyeliner gives his eyes something unsettling. Nobody will be able to look at his face for more than a few seconds. "Shut up, Hux." They both talk with a hint of malice, just enough to keep their relationship from turning dull. Things might have turned softer between them, both of them letting their masks slide. But the basis of their relationship had been mutual hatred, and that might have faded, but it never really vanished. Hux pulls his uniform back in place before straightening his back and opening the door. "Go and spread the message." Kylo smiles at him, showing off his sharp teeth and bows his head. His tone is half earnest, half mocking. "As you wish, my Emperor."

 

The group of delegates is conversing in low voices. But as soon as they hear the clacking of sharp heels they fall silent, all turning their heads towards the sound. "Numeror," one whispers as they wait impatiently. Another says, "Karkal was obviously favoured." A third one shushes them and they stare at the corner intently.

Kylo Ren, consort of His Highness the Emperor, stalks down the hallway with long strides. His head is held high, and his painted face gives him the air of someone sharp and deadly and very, very proud. His clothes are... extravagant would be an understatement. A gown that is silver embroidery held together by transparent fabric, pulling tight across his chest and revealing his shoulders, which are different shades of purple, blue and green from fading bruises. Dark violet trousers that are about as see-through as the gown, but giving the illusion of property in combination with the embriodery. Some of the more inexperienced delegates avoid their eyes as he sweeps past them, but the more seasoned ones turn to catch a view of his hairdo.

Only when he has vanished around another corner, the delegates relax. For a long moment they stay silent, all of them still shaken from the view, which is an effect Kylo Ren has on people. The delegate from Numeror is the one to open his mouth first. "Well, that's settled. This was definitely silver, and that means Hrevon got the order." A wave of muttered agreement. One of the others says, her voice barely audible, "We could all go home. Negotiations are a farce anyways." The delegate from Numeror, an elderly man who has seen it all, smiles at her. "Yes, Marsha, but then we would miss the splendid supper. And you can say what you want about the Emperor's political schemes, but his banquets are exquisite."


End file.
